


First Impressions

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Banter?, Clint is THIRSTY AF, First Date, Fluff, Get Together, M/M, Natasha is a great bro but might need to consider getting a new bro, Other, Steve is also a Good Bro, meet cute? Ish?, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 04:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14608953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: “Can we get back to the part where you took a date to a notorious Red Sox bar? In Boston. When the Yankees were in town playing the Sox, and they are tied in the standings. And the why the fuck?” Natasha said the words in her best ‘I have not spent half my life saving your ass for this, Clint Barton’ voice.Clint and Bucky go on their first date.





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



> For CB, who wanted “I thought it was a good idea at the time, but it now occurs to me that I was horribly wrong” with fluff. Thanks for putting up with me being utterly ridiculous at almost all times.
> 
> Thanks to Ro for all the things, but in particular for beta reading this. And all the things.

 

 

 

Clint was pretty sure his  _ bruises _ had bruises. Hell, his bruises’ bruises probably had bruises.

 

He shifted on the hard bench and winced.

 

“Ow.” His ribs hurt. His face hurt. His  _ ass _ hurt. Everything hurt.

 

“Anyone ever tell you purple’s a good color on you?”

 

Clint cracked open his eyes, squinting in the flood of fluorescent lights, and focused on the other man sharing one of Boston’s finest (most awful) police holding cells. The other man looked about as awesome as Clint felt. One of his eyes was almost swollen shut, his lips were split, and his shirt was ripped at the collar and spattered with blood.

 

“Why’d’ya think I let ‘em land so many hits on me?” Clint smirked, and the man shook his head. But Clint saw the ways his lips reluctantly tugged up at the corners.

 

Since they were alone, and since Clint had already braved the way harsh lights, he let himself look his fill, eyes roaming over the impressive physique of the other man. He was, in a word, fucking  _ hot _ .

 

Two words. Whatever. 

 

Wiry and muscled, with broad shoulders, and damn, but he filled out that  _ Yankees _ shirt like it was airbrushed onto him. It was still half-tucked into his jeans, which Clint had raised an eyebrow at when he first saw it - because who tucked in a t-shirt if they were under seventy five? - but he had to admit, it  _ did _ draw the eye to his trim waist and his fucking gorgeous thighs and his ass. His ass was a work of art. And his legs were so damn long and-

 

Oh, hey. 

 

Clint hadn’t noticed that the guy’s navy converse sneakers had  _ Yankees _ patches on them. That was cool. He needed to get a pair for himself.

 

“Enjoying the view?”

 

Clint grinned, completely unrepentant as he swept his gaze back up to look the other man in the eye. Cool, amused gray eyes met his own.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Clint assured him with a grin. “Very much.”

 

He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back and-

 

There was nothing behind him.

 

He fell over, wincing as his left shoulder reminded him that  _ Hey! Bruises! Bruises with bruises! Right here! _

 

The laughter from the other man was, oddly, kind of worth it.

 

He had a nice laugh, rich and deep and a little rough, as if he wasn’t used to doing it all that often. And it made his gray eyes crinkle at the corners and-

 

“What the fuck did you do now?”

 

Clint’s ogling was rudely interrupted by the voice of a woman who sounded five thousand percent  _ done _ .

 

He grinned and looked to the front of the cell, where his best friend stood beside some hulking blond-haired guy.

 

“Yours?” he asked his cellmate.

 

He nodded, and his lips had settled into a not-quite smirk. Which looked stupidly good on his face.

 

“She’s mine,” Clint said, and jerked a thumb at the scowling red-headed woman beside the hulk.

 

“I guessed that,” the guy responded.

 

The blond hulk beside Natasha sighed.

 

“Looks like Mom and Dad are pissed,” Clint stage whispered.

 

His cellmate choked on a giggle, and that set Clint off.

 

“Oh my god,” Natasha sighed. “We should just leave you two in here. It looks like they were booking some guys who smelled like piss. You might be able to make some new friends. Especially dressed like you two are.”

 

“No, no, please, I’m sorry.” Clint held up his hands in surrender, and tried to get himself under control.

 

Natasha didn’t look impressed by his efforts. Neither did blond hulk.

 

“Bucky, what-  _ Why _ … I thought things were better.”

 

“This has nothing to do with that, Steve.”

 

Clint’s cellmate’s voice was  _ cold _ . Arctic levels of ice, and the words were so flat and lifeless that Clint found himself looking away from Natasha’s disapproval to the other guy.

 

“Bucky?” He had introduced himself to Clint as James.

 

“My nickname. From when I was eight,” the guy growled. He walked over to Clint and offered him a hand up. “Only this asshole still calls me that.”

 

Clint accepted the hand up.

 

“Dunno. Bucky. Has a nice sound to it.”

 

The guy arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“Sure, when  _ you _ say it.”

 

Natasha cleared her throat, ruining the moment. And Clint had totally been about to suggest he try  _ screaming _ it.

 

“Boys. Do you want to go or stay?”

 

“Go,” they agreed immediately.

 

A cop unlocked the cell, and Clint and Bucky walked through, falling into step behind Natasha and Steve.

 

As they walked down the hallway of cells, Clint nudged Bucky with his shoulder. 

 

Bucky looked over at him with an arched eyebrow.

 

“You should give me the chance to scream it,” Clint whispered.

 

“Like in pain?” Bucky asked, eyebrows furrowing.

 

“No, not like in pain. Like in- Like ‘Oh yeah, Bucky, just like that. Bucky!’ Like that.”

 

“Oh.” The guy looked thoughtful. It wasn’t the reaction Clint had been aiming for. “Maybe. I’ve never fucked anyone who didn’t call me James before.”

 

“Look, if you want to stick with James, it’s cool. I’m very flexible on what I call people when we fuck. You want to be called sugarplum? Got it. You want to be called Terminator? Can do. You want-”

 

“We’ll give Bucky a try,” the guy assured Clint, lips tilted up again.

 

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Clint said.

 

“You’d better.” There was heat in Bucky’s cool gaze, and Clint felt it all the way down to his toes.

 

They checked out of the station, Clint signing whatever papers were shoved his way with a negligent scrawl, and then they were outside in the predawn chill.

 

The last six hours seemed to catch up with Clint all at once, and he saw them hit Bucky at the same time.

 

“We should head home,” Steve said.

 

“Or,” Clint jumped in before Bucky could agree, “we could all go grab a bite at that diner - my treat. As a thanks for bailing us out of jail.”

 

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“You have never once bought me breakfast as a thank you for bailing you out of jail before, Clint.”

 

“New leaf,” he said, waving away her objection. He turned to Bucky. “You in?”

 

Bucky licked his lips, looked from Clint to Steve, but then nodded.

 

“Yeah. I could eat.”

 

It was a five-block walk. All in total, stony silence. It would have been painful, but Bucky walked beside Clint, and every few steps, their shoulders or hands brushed.

 

And Clint was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining that each time they touched, Bucky lingered against him.

 

They were sat down at a booth near the back of the nearly empty diner, Bucky and Clint on one side, Natasha and Steve on the other.

 

Clint  _ definitely _ didn’t imagine Bucky pressing his leg against Clint’s, thigh to ankle. He pressed back, scooting a bit closer in the booth seat and earning an arched eyebrow from Natasha at his less than subtle move.

 

No one had ever accused Clint of being subtle. He was actually proud of that.

 

“So,” Steve sighed after a disturbingly chipper waitress delivered four cups of coffee and reeled off a list of specials that sounded like the cook had way too much free time, “you two got into a fight with an entire bar.”

 

Clint and Bucky exchanged a glance.

 

“I wouldn’t say the  _ entire _ bar,” Clint hedged.

 

Bucky nodded in agreement.

 

“Those two lesbians making out in the back-”

 

“Angel and Beth,” Clint supplied.

 

“Yeah, them. They just threw beer on us. They didn’t actually join in the fight.”

 

Steve sighed.

 

“I don’t think the blind guy and his service dog were in the fight, either,” Clint offered.

 

Even Natasha looked disapproving at that.

 

“No, no, he tried to trip you with his stick,” Bucky shook his head. “You were taking on the guy in the Curt Schilling jersey and didn’t see. I kicked it out of the way before he could get you.”

 

“You assaulted a  _ blind man _ ,” Steve sounded horrified.

 

“No, I protected my date from an attack by a blind guy,” Bucky rephrased the words, and Clint beamed.

 

Until Natasha leveled a glare at him.

 

“Explain to me again why you thought it would be a good idea for you, the most obnoxious  _ Yankees _ fan I have ever met-”

 

“I’m only the most obnoxious person you’ve ever met, Nat. Nothing to do with the Yankees-”

 

“-decided to go on a first date with  _ another _ obnoxious Yankees fan-”

 

“Hey!” Bucky and Clint protested at the same time.

 

“You are,” Steve said. “You are the  _ worst _ Yankees fan. And it doesn’t even - we grew up in Brooklyn, Buck, and then you just go and…” Steve waved a hand at Bucky’s attire. “You’re a traitor.”

 

“Oh my god,  _ Steve.”  _ Bucky ran his hands over his face. “The Dodgers left Brooklyn thirty years before we were  _ born _ . You’ve got to let it  _ go _ .”

 

“You could be anything else, though, Bucky. You- you could be a Mets fan!”

 

All three of them looked at Steve.

 

“Ew,” Natasha summed up succinctly.

 

Bucky and Clint nodded in agreement.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, grimacing. “That- that didn’t come out right. Obviously, I don’t want you to be a Mets fan, Buck.”

 

“Can we get back to the part where you took a date to a notorious Red Sox bar? In  _ Boston _ . When the Yankees were in town playing the Sox, and they are tied in the standings. And  _ why the fuck _ ?” Natasha said the words in her best ‘I have not spent half my life saving your ass for  _ this, _ Clint Barton’ voice.

 

“In my defense,” Clint started.

 

Bucky snorted a laugh, which distracted Clint into grinning at him. Bucky grinned back. 

 

Clint really loved the way his eyes crinkled. Even with the bruising and swelling. And-

 

“ _ Clint _ .”

 

“Right. As I was saying, in my defense, I thought it was a good idea at the time, but it now occurs to me that I was horribly wrong.”

 

“Horribly wrong?” Bucky asked.

 

“I mean, not  _ horribly _ wrong,” Clint amended. “I did get to share the backseat of a squad car with you on our first date. Normally, that’s like third - fourth date - stuff. Unless I’m taking it slow. One time, I waited until we’d been dating two months before I took a guy to prison for the first time.”

 

Bucky looked torn between amusement and exasperation.

 

Natasha looked disgusted.

 

Steve buried his head in his hands.

 

“ _ Why _ did you think it was a good idea to set these two up, Nat?” Steve groaned.

 

“You know,” Natasha sighed, “I thought it was a good idea at the time, but it now occurs to me that I was horribly wrong.”

 

“Hey - you can’t just take my excuse!” Clint protested.

 

The waitress came back and took their orders.

 

“I think I might go, uh, wash up,” Clint said after she had left. He indicated his bar-brawl-survivor self.

 

“Me, too.” Bucky immediately followed Clint as he slid out of the booth.

 

“Do not fuck in the diner bathroom,” Steve warned.

 

Clint shot him a wounded look.

 

“I would  _ never _ .”

 

Natasha arched an eyebrow.

 

“Come on.” Bucky grabbed his hand and dragged Clint away from their antagonists.

 

Clint was pretty sure they weren’t about to fuck in the diner bathroom, but his certainty was derailed when Bucky held the door open for him and then promptly shoved Clint’s body against it to close it.

 

“So, fancy meeting you here,” Clint said with a grin.

 

Bucky smirked down at him and stepped close, until their whole bodies were flush, and Clint felt a thrill of adrenaline spike through his body.

 

“I can’t decide if this is the best or the worst first date I’ve ever been on,” Bucky said, sounding serious. 

 

He was close enough that Clint could feel the puff of his breath against his cheek, and he itched to tilt his chin up and feel the press of Bucky’s stubble against his jaw.  _ Really _ wanted to see if Bucky’s hair, which had started the night gathered in a tail under the Yankees hat that was KIA in the fight and was now loose around his shoulders, was as soft as it looked.

 

“How can I tilt the scales?” Clint asked.

 

“Good question. I’ve got a few ideas. Say my name again.”

 

“James?”

 

“No.”

 

“Bucky.”

 

“Mm.”

 

Clint smirked and reached out, tucking his hands into the back pockets of Bucky’s jeans and cupping his ass.

 

“Bucky,” he repeated.

 

The other man smirked and fucking  _ finally _ kissed him.

 

It was just a swift brush of lips, a tease that was rough and smooth and way too hot for such a brief, superficial touch.

 

“ _ Bucky _ ,” he growled.

 

The kiss was longer this time, Bucky reaching up and sliding his hands on either side of Clint’s face, curving around his skull, nails scraping his scalp, and Clint hummed because yeah. Fingers. Hair. That was a thing for him.

 

And so the fuck was Bucky.

 

Christ. There wasn’t even any tongue involved, just soft lips and hard stubble and heat, and  _ fuck. _

 

_ “Bucky _ .” Okay. That was… that was begging now.

 

He felt the other man’s lips curve into a smirk, and then they parted, his tongue sweeping into Clint’s mouth, and fuck. 

 

_ Fuck _ .

 

When Bucky finally stepped away, he looked just as wrecked as Clint felt.

 

Which had Clint smirking. 

 

“Best or worst?” Clint asked.

 

“Definitely best,” Bucky decided, mouth curved in a lopsided grin that Clint decided was, of all the expressions he had seen that night, his favorite.

 

“Good.”

 

Clint reversed their positions, pushing Bucky up against the door and slotting a knee between Bucky’s legs.

 

Bucky arched an eyebrow.

 

“I’m competitive,” Clint shrugged. “But now that I’ve won…”

 

He leaned close as he spoke, words trailing against Bucky’s jaw. Bucky turned his head, chasing Clint’s mouth.

 

Clint pressed a kiss to Bucky’s jaw instead, working his way towards Bucky’s ear.

 

“Your turn,” he whispered into the shell before licking.

 

Bucky shuddered under him.

 

“My turn for what?” Bucky sounded breathless.

 

“To say my name.”

 

-o-

 

By the time they made it out of the bathroom, Clint felt both cleaner and infinitely dirtier. 

 

When they slid into the booth again, Clint smirking and Bucky looking more than a little dazed, Natasha and Steve glared.

 

“Mm,” Clint grinned down at the slice of apple pie waiting for him. The ice cream had completely melted into a creamy puddle around it. That had him smirking again. “Looks delicious.”

 

“You’re unbelievable,” Natasha sighed.

 

Beside Clint, Bucky tucked into his own pie slice - key lime. Guess he wasn’t perfect, after all - with similar gusto.

 

Steve and Natasha had already finished theirs, and both sat in silent judgement, arms folded, watching as Clint and Bucky scraped their plates clean.

 

“Well,” Clint stretched an arm across the back of the booth seat and draped it over Bucky’s shoulders, “this was awesome. We should do it more often.”

 

Bucky leaned back against him with a smirk.

 

Steve’s eyes flicked from the expression on Bucky’s face to Clint’s arm, and then to Clint’s face.

 

“Maybe we should,” Steve murmured, looking for the first time friendly instead of like a disappointed dad.

 

Natasha looked at her phone and groaned.

 

“It’s five in the morning. I have to be at work in two hours. Okay. Enough of this ‘love at first bar fight’ crap.”

 

Steve nodded in agreement.

 

“You kids are definitely out past your bedtimes.”

 

Clint rolled his eyes, and saw Bucky do the same.

 

They all got out of the booth again, Clint leaving behind enough cash to cover the bill and leave a generous tip, and strolled outside.

 

The sky was just starting to shift from dark to light, periwinkle spreading through the clouds overhead and making Clint grin.

 

He wasn’t a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but he  _ did _ love sunrises.

 

Natasha and Steve walked ahead a few steps, giving Bucky and Clint the illusion of privacy.

 

“So…” Clint suddenly felt a little nervous as they stood there staring at each other under a flickering streetlight.

 

“So,” Bucky agreed with a nod. “I had a good time.”

 

“I thought you had the  _ best _ time,” Clint reminded him.

 

“Mm. Yeah. I did.” Bucky grinned again. “We should do it again.”

 

“Yeah. Yankees are back in town in September…” Which was months away. Clint really didn’t want to wait that long.

 

“You know, Trump’s got a rally in Lowell next week.” Bucky shrugged and put his hands inside his jean pockets. “We could go and… get into some trouble.”

 

Clint grinned at him.

 

“Oh my god, I think I love you.”

 

Bucky smirked.

 

“I haven’t even told you where I’m taking you for our third date yet,” he said.

 

Clint arched an eyebrow.

 

“A man who plans ahead? Tell me more.”

 

Bucky stepped close again, pressed a chaste kiss to Clint’s lips, and then moved to his ear. He nipped Clint’s earlobe.

 

“G8 Summit.”

 

“Fucking  _ christ _ , Bucky. We’re in  _ publi _ c _. _ ”

 

Bucky grinned at him, and Clint grinned back.

 

Natasha cleared her throat.

 

“Can you two  _ please _ stop staring at each other like you’re twelve? Say goodnight, and let’s go.”

 

“Night,” Clint said, and kissed him again.

 

“Good night.” Bucky’s kiss was longer, lingering, and fucking  _ fuck, _ the man’s mouth should  _ not _ feel that good against Clint’s. It wasn’t fucking fair.

 

Clint watched Bucky and Steve walk away, watched them nudge each other with their shoulders and then elbows.

 

“Clint, you’re doing that thing where you grin like an idiot,” Natasha sighed.

 

“That’s called my  _ face _ , Nat. That’s called my  _ face _ .”

 

“I know.” She sounded like she had given up all hope.

 

Clint draped an arm over her shoulders, and they started walking in the opposite direction, towards their own apartment.

 

“Hey, Nat.”

 

“Hey, Clint.”

 

“Thanks for bailing me out of jail.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“Hey, Nat.”

 

“Clint.”

 

“Thanks for setting me up with Bucky.”

 

“Don’t remind me. I’m thinking it was one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made.”

 

Clint grinned.

 

“Hey, Nat.”

 

“ _ Clint _ .”

 

“I’m gonna set you up with someone next. You deserve to be this happy.”

 

“Don’t you dare.”

 

“I am. Best way to return my thanks for all that you do for me. You need someone as perfect for you as Bucky is for me.”

 

“You  _ just _ met him.”

 

“We took on an entire bar full of Red Sox fans together and didn’t get hospitalized. We spent four hours in a jail cell together. We had a magical time in a diner bathroom. We’ve bonded.”

 

“You are such a disaster of a human being, Clint.”

 

“Yep. Hey. Do you want the disaster type? Or do you want the disapproving dad type? Whaddya think of Steve?”

 

“Clint, go fuck yourself.”

 

“Nah. Might go fuck Bucky, though.”

 

-o-

  
  
  
  



End file.
